To Enso's surprise, Itachi showed no fear or anger. Instead, he simply walked away, calm and unbothered, dodging the incoming stones with minimal effort. He didn't even turn his head. It was as if he were gliding through the situation, letting the world fall behind him.
A few of those stones flew dangerously close.
Enso pulled a dango stick and ate it while watching the show. After emptying the dango on the stick, he quickly threw it at the incoming rock that would most likely force Itachi to stop dodging. Itachi stopped mid-step, sensing the interception, and turned his head toward the direction of the throw.
Enso lifted a hand in greeting and waved casually. "Yo."
Itachi tilted his head slightly, curious, and began walking over. Before he could speak, Enso beat him to it, and his tone light but direct.
"Wanna join me for some rock climbing? It's part of my training routine."
Itachi blinked. The question caught him off guard. But after a brief moment, he nodded. "Sure."
The two started walking side by side. As they made their way to the cliffs just outside the village, Enso pulled two dango sticks from the bag and handed them to Itachi.
Itachi hesitated. "What's this for?"
"Pre-workout," Enso said, handing him the sticks. "Trust me—it's tradition."
The term was foreign to Itachi, but the dango smelled good, and he was hungry. He took the sticks and began eating. Whatever 'pre-workout' meant, it didn't sound too bad.
When they reached the cliffs, the two boys began their climb. Enso led the way, scaling the rock face with practised ease, his limbs moving rhythmically as if his body remembered every notch and groove. Itachi followed close behind. The two completed two full rounds of climbing, switching hands for each ascent to train their ambidexterity.
After finishing the second climb, Itachi suddenly pulled out a pair of Kunai. Without a word, he jumped off the cliff, using the kunai to slow his descent by dragging it against the rock surface, creating sparks and friction.
Enso's eyes widened. "Whoa," he muttered, impressed.
Not one to be outdone, he pulled out a pair of kunai and leapt off the edge, copying Itachi's method. His form was less refined but surprisingly effective.
Itachi, focused on landing, didn't notice until he turned around and saw Enso sticking the landing beside him. For the first time in a while, a flicker of competition lit in Itachi's eyes.
Without a word, he turned and dashed toward the cliff again, running vertically with chakra-assisted footwork. But halfway up, he realised something shocking: Enso wasn't using chakra. Naturally, Enso would chase after Itachi to see what he's up to.
Enso was scaling the cliff with raw physical strength alone— legs driving, body pushing itself upward through sheer willpower. Enso quickly ran past him and reached the top of the cliff first, despite Itachi having a head start.
Reaching the top first, Enso looked back and grinned. This was going to be fun. Itachi arrived moments later, panting but smiling. He hadn't felt this alive in weeks. Laughing, he said, "You're not normal."
Enso smile at Itachi's remark, " Neither are you. Want to go for another round?" Itachi couldn't help but nod as he felt the adrenaline rush from Enso's proposal.
Enso jumping off the cliff again—this time using only one kunai, increasing the challenge. Itachi followed, determined. But midway through his descent, the strain on his left arm became too much. He instinctively used his second kunai to stabilise himself.
At the bottom, Enso waited, casually brushing dust off his pants. He watched as Itachi landed, his breathing heavier, his left arm visibly fatigued.
Without saying anything, Enso stepped forward, placed his hand on Itachi's arm, and channelled a faint green glow. Itachi blinked. The tension in his muscles faded, the soreness evaporating.
"Mystical Palm Technique," Enso said casually. "I've trained in medical ninjutsu since I was five. Got tired of waiting for someone else to patch me up."
Itachi looked down at his arm, then up at Enso.
"Your physical strength surpasses mine," he said quietly, seriously. "I'm no match at all."
Enso chuckled. "I've been working on my body for three years. You'll catch up in no time. If you want, we can train together after class."
Itachi nodded slowly. "Only on Mondays and Wednesdays. Is that fine?"
Enso ran back up the cliff without looking back, saying, "You know where to find me!"
As Enso continued his routine—now transitioning into more intense acrobatics, flips, and bodyweight strength drills—Itachi watched from below for a moment longer. Then he turned and walked home, his pace lighter.
By the time he reached the Uchiha compound, the sky had begun to turn golden with dusk. At the entrance stood Shisui Uchiha, arms crossed and a teasing grin on his face.
"You're late, Itachi," Shisui called out.
Itachi smiled. "I made a new friend today," he said. "Actually… he's more like a rival."
Shisui raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
As they walked together through the compound, Itachi recounted everything that had happened that afternoon—the dango, the climb, the training, the quiet strength of Enso Uzumaki.
Shisui listened attentively, smiling the whole time. He had known Itachi for years, and never had he seen the boy speak with so much joy.
"Sounds like you had fun," he said.
Itachi nodded. "Yeah. I think today was a good day."
After finishing his daily training routine, Enso placed his hand over his arms and shoulders, healing the soreness in his muscles with a gentle wave of green chakra. The familiar warmth spread through his body, easing the tension from hours of climbing, striking drills, and acrobatics. It was a simple technique, but a vital one—especially for someone who pushed his body to its limit every single day.
With that, he headed back to his place and changed into a fresh set of clothes. Enso's outfit was simple, almost always the same: a sleeveless black shirt that clung to his lean, toned torso, and high-waisted black pants that were loose around the legs, allowing for fluid movement. They resembled the ones worn by Fushiguro from Jujutsu Kaisen, not that Enso was trying to imitate anyone—it just suited his style. The dark colors made it easy to blend in and move freely, two things he naturally preferred.
To finish the look, he threw on a white jacket—clean, slightly oversized, and comfortable. It was similar to Yuta Okkotsu's, a detail Enso would never mention but appreciated. The jacket softened his silhouette, masking the sharp lines of muscle and making him appear more relaxed than he really was.
He didn't spend much time in the mirror. Once he was dressed, he was out the door and on his way to Kushina's house.
As soon as he stepped through the door, he tied up his hair and rolled up his sleeves, heading straight to the kitchen to help with dinner prep. Kushina was already busy washing vegetables when he arrived.
"Perfect timing, Enso," she said with a grin, handing him a chopping board. "Hope you're not too tired to use that knife for something other than fighting."
"Never too tired to cook," he replied with a small smirk, grabbing the tomatoes and getting to work.
Originally from Earth, Enso had spent years studying culinary traditions from all over the globe. His time in the Hidden Leaf gave him access to chakra and jutsu—but his memories of Earth never faded, and neither did his passion for food. Tonight's dinner was one of his personal favourites: spaghetti and meatballs. A simple dish, but when done right, it was the definition of comfort food.
"I ran into someone interesting today," he said, turning the meatballs with practised ease.
"Oh?" Kushina glanced up, curious.
"Itachi Uchiha," Enso said.
Kushina raised an eyebrow. "Itachi? Isn't he that quiet genius everyone talks about?"
"That's the one," Enso said, then shrugged. "He was hard to read. But I don't think he's as cold as he looks."
She grinned knowingly. "Most people aren't."
He mixed the ground meat with breadcrumbs and herbs, shaping them into perfect spheres as Kushina stirred the simmering tomato sauce. Between prep and seasoning, Enso shared the story of his encounter with Itachi earlier that day—how the Uchiha dodged rocks without even looking, and how they ended up challenging each other in a cliff-climbing competition that turned into something more like a rivalry.
Kushina laughed as she placed the garlic bread in the oven.
Enso nodded. "He's sharp. Calm. I think we'll train together again."
As he rolled meatballs, he glanced over. "Tomato sauce ready?"
Kushina nodded, tasting it with a spoon. "Needs a bit more salt. But it's good." Then she gave him a teasing smile. "You always bring weird food to the table, but I have to admit—you never fail to impress."
Enso gave a short laugh. "Glad to hear."
They worked in companionable silence for a while, with only the sounds of the sizzling pan and bubbling pot between them. Eventually, Enso broke the quiet.
Kushina didn't pry. She simply stirred the sauce and said, "Sounds like you found someone who can keep up with you," she said, a twinkle in her eye. "That's rare, you make a friend."
Enso looked down at the frying pan and quietly said, "Maybe."
It wasn't much of a revelation, but for someone like Enso—who usually kept to himself, it was a step forward.
As they set the table, Kushina glanced at him again. "You know, I'm glad you're doing well at the academy. You're quiet, but you're not meant to be alone."
Just then, the front door opened.
"I'm home," Minato's voice called gently.
"In the kitchen!" Kushina called back.
Minato appeared moments later, slipping off his sandals and offering his usual warm smile.
Minato walked in, wearing his usual Hokage cloak. His expression shifted from the usual mild tiredness to surprise the moment he stepped into the kitchen. "Whoa, smells incredible in here. Let me guess—Enso's doing?" He walked in just as Enso placed the meatballs into the sauce to finish cooking. Minato's nose twitched.
Kushina raised an eyebrow. "Why do you sound surprised?"
"Because I'm starting to think he's secretly a professional chef," Minato chuckled, peeking into the pot. "What is it tonight?"
"Spaghetti and meatballs," Enso answered, placing the dish on the table. The meal looked inviting: a pile of pasta perfectly coated in sauce, meatballs glistening, and garlic bread stacked on the side.
Minato took off his outer coat and flak jacket before sitting at the dining table. He took one bite and immediately leaned back. "This is amazing," he said, eyes wide. "Enso, are you sure you're not some undercover chef?"
Enso gave a small smile. As a chef, he appreciated people enjoying his food.
Minato chuckled, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "With you around, we'll never have the same dinner twice. A true blessing for the tummy."
"I'll take that as a compliment," Enso said quietly, but his tone carried more warmth than usual.
They ate, shared stories, and teased one another. It wasn't anything grand, but it felt special. Simple dinners like this reminded Enso of something important—something he couldn't quite name. Maybe it was the peace, or the laughter, or the way no one asked too many questions about where he came from or how he knew so much. They just… accepted him.
On the contrary, Naruto was still afraid of him. Every time Enso tried to reach out—just to hold him, maybe earn a comforting hug like a proper big brother—Naruto would burst into loud cries, his tiny face scrunching up in terror. The sound would bring Kushina running in an instant, arms scooping up the baby while offering soft words and soothing warmth. Enso could only watch, puzzled and a little hurt. People often said children were drawn to good looks and gentle hearts—but Naruto rejected him every time. Was it instinct? Did he somehow sense the quiet hatred Enso still harboured for Obito, buried deep beneath his composed exterior?
By the time the plates were cleared, the sky outside had turned a deep shade of blue, stars starting to peek out.
Enso stood up, gathering the plates. "I'll wash up."
"No need," Kushina said. "You cooked, I'll clean it up."
Enso gave a small nod and stepped onto the porch for some fresh air. The breeze was cool, brushing softly against his jacket. He looked up at the stars for a moment, thoughtful and free.